It would only delay the confrontation with Cate Burroughs.

The rains may have stopped, but the river kept rising as the storm waters flowed into Rosings Creek and the Long Branch. Higher and higher the river rose, turning Thompson Crossing into a raging torrent. Downriver, the townspeople watched the single bridge across the river with concern, hoping it wouldn’t fail. It survived, but just barely.

The same couldn’t be said for the abandoned homesteads in the new settlement. The long-timers’ predictions rang true when the Long Branch overflowed its banks, inundating the bottomland and the houses that stood like lonely sentinels. They were flooded one by one, and a few, like the Washingtons’ place, could not stand the deluge and were swept away.

One old wag opined that God Himself was cleaning the foul stench of the crime that had been committed there. Publicly, most scoffed at the idea, but it was telling that, for generations, folks in Long Branch County would consider the site haunted.

Chapter 16

October 31

The days were growing shorter as October ended, but the air still held a hint of summer’s warmth. Therefore, Charlotte was not chilled as she carefully walked home from the jail, the streets still damp and slightly muddy from the rains that had fallen for the past week, and she was able to lose herself in thoughts of Fitz. Her progress was halted by a loud noise, and she turned to observe some of Denny’s men entering Younge’s Saloon, singing and cursing. Charlotte frowned, wondering again why Rosings tolerated such an establishment. She looked up and down the muddy street at the storefronts and shops, at the banks and the church, at the new schoolhouse going up. All signs that the town was leaving its frontier roots. Even Whitehead’s building, next to Younge’s, spoke of the future—

Charlotte froze.

Looking from a second-floor window in Whitehead’s building was a young, blonde woman. Her face was painted and her clothes could only be described as indecent, but Charlotte recognized the girl beneath the harlot. A moment later, the woman turned from the window, responding to a voice within the room. Then a man’s arm drew the curtains closed.

Charlotte blinked. A less self-assured person might have thought the sighting had never happened, but Miss Lucas was nothing if not confident. She looked about to see if her response was of note to anyone on the street. Assured of her safety, she quickly returned to her father’s office.

“Charlotte, are you certain of this?” cried Sheriff Lucas.

Charlotte rubbed her forehead, weary of the interrogation. “Yes, Paw. It was Lily Bennet. I know it! It was her!”

“Maybe we oughta go and take a peek,” Deputy Smith offered helpfully. He blanched at the look his boss threw at him.

“I’m still not convinced it was the Bennet girl,” Sheriff Lucas insisted. “Perhaps it was a trick of the light—”

“Paw!” Charlotte cried. “I know what I saw! It was Lily Bennet looking out a window in George Whitehead’s building not thirty minutes ago. I know it as sure as I’m sitting here. Why do you insist I didn’t see what I saw? Are you afraid?”

“Yes!” Lucas shouted as he leapt to his feet. “Yes, I am, and so should you be! Do you understand what’ll happen if I go stormin’ in there? Do you want Denny and his gang shootin’ up the town? Three lawmen against a dozen trained killers? There are more things to think about than one foolish girl!”

Charlotte stared at the two men in shock. Her father was flushed while Smith would not meet her eye. “Paw—”

Lucas cut her off. “No more, Charlotte. Not another word. I’ve said my piece. Now, get yourself back to the house. Smith, go walk her home.”

“No, Paw. It’s not necessary. I can find my own way home. To be honest, I’d rather not suffer your company, or Smith’s, any more than I have to tonight.” Charlotte did not wait to hear her father’s response, as she was out the door the next instant. But she did not head towards their house at the edge of town. Instead, she made her way to the livery stable.

As usual at Pemberley, the Darcys had their supper early and had their top hands join them. They were half-finished with their meal, and José was in the middle of an amusing story about a priest and a rabbi in a saloon, when Reynaldo approached the table.

“Señor Darcy, there is a young woman here to see Señor Fitz.”

Both men exchanged confused glances before Darcy told his butler to escort the lady in. The confusion was doubled as Charlotte was introduced.

“Miss Lucas,” Darcy greeted her, “you are very welcome, but may I ask why you’re here—alone, I take it? Has something happened to your father?”

The agitated girl shook her head. “No, no, he’s fine. Please excuse me, Miss Gaby, but I have to talk to Fitz right now!” She glanced at Darcy. “And, perhaps, you too, Mr. Will.”

Darcy looked at Fitz. “Very well, shall we adjourn to my study?”

“Charlotte, are you certain of this?” cried Fitz.